Dearest Little Witch
by SkyeElf
Summary: Parody. They call me Dearest Little Witch, but my name is Hermione. I'm the smartest witch that I know, I'm also one of the only witches that. I live in a place called Daisyland, with a Golden Daisy, elves, a magical chicken and Bee Queen. A little romance will be mixed in. 150th fic!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, hello. This fic is strictly humour. I dedicate this fic to my friend Dez, who had better be reading this.**

**This fic was also inspired by the purely South African adventures of Liewe Heksie by Verna Vels. I bow down before he genius. I don't own that nor do I own Harry Potter. Now, onwards!**

**The Dearest Little With**

**Chapter 1: My name is Dearest.**

They call me Dearest Little Witch (or Dearest for short. I don't mind what they call me, just as long as they don't insult me and my intelligence.), but Hermione is my name. I am the smartest witch that I know, then again I'm also one of the only witches that I know.

I have a bunch of bushy brown hair that I can never tame, and the taming itself is a massive process in the first place. I don't really bother with it, because everyone in Daisyland know what I look like. I always wear a black dress that end just above my knees and a pair of short heels. Hey, I'm the only one that doesn't wear a pointy hat and clothes an elf would wear.

I live in a place called Daisyland: it is full of daisies (quit obviously), posies and even a few roses here and there, the grass is always green, even in winter, and the trees are always in bloom.

We also have a rather kind king, even though he is like a bear with a sore paw at time. King Dumbledore, but we call him King Rosehalo… because he always wears a halo of roses as his crown. He has a long, white beard and half-moon spectacles, his eyes are always twinkling and he goes around Daisyland handing out candy.

I live on my own. I'm sixteen and I live on my own. Isn't that fantastic? My parents moved a very long time ago, and my grandmother raised me. She died a year ago – my great grandmother Hermionettalia. Hell, I'm glad I hadn't been punished with that name. But she was the sweetest lady that ever existed.

I have a cat – his name is Crookshanks and he's adorable. I have no idea what he says to me most of the time, but I don't care, he's one of my best friends nonetheless. I think he laughs at me sometimes, when I do something strange, because he shakes his head, closes his eyes and shakes his head whilst mewing.

My other best friends are Harry and Ron – they're both elves. They always wear pointy red caps that, for some reason, leave their pointy ears exposed. But their ears are adorable! They have a slight curl at the top that just makes it that much more adorable.

Ron has ginger hair that peeks from underneath his red cap, and Harry has black hair. Of the two of them, Harry is the kindest and Ron is the brawniest. I've never seen them without their caps, though, so they could even be bald underneath those caps.

In Daisyland we have a very special treasure: the Golden Daisy. It sustains life in all of Daisylands flowers and trees and it causes the grass to be always green. It is therefore no surprise that the Blueberries want to steal it.

The Blueberries come from Onionsland (I know! Why do they call them Blueberries if they come from Onionland?), and they want our Golden Daisy to bring life to their own place. We can't even lend it to them for a day, because then all the flowers in Daisyland would die. And we don't want that.

Onionland is ruled by King Voldemort – he is tall and mean and ugly. He has no nose (I wonder how he smells? Probably awful, but that's beside the point.) and he carries a big stick with him everywhere. I don't know why, he probably slaps the Blueberries with it when he's feeling off the day.

Oh, and lastly, the Blueberries are elves too. You should probably know that if you're reading this.

Well, mortals, here we go! Wish me luck on my life as the only witch in Daisyland!

…

**A/N: Please do leave a review, my darling readers. I apologise for my overzealousness, but medicine tends to make me delirious, and therefore I am not writing on my more 'serious' fanfictions at this moment.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Welcome to the second chapter, in which Dearest gets a new roof!**

**Chapter 2: Dearest's New Roof, Part 1**

I moved around my tiny house, making dinner for myself and my kitten. Crookshanks was walking around the kitchen, mewing loudly and, I assume, asking for food. I don't know why he's asking for my food when I'm eating oxtail and ox tongue and he only eats fish flavoured foods.

Or was it me that ate only ate fish flavoured foods and the cat ate the ox? Ah well, I'll find out soon enough.

It was late, near midnight, and I had spent the day painting my roof. There had been a huge rock on my roof – it was a rather light roof, and I painted it yellow and green. I was bored of the simple black colour.

Also, the Fairy Queen is making a visit. I have no idea what she looks like, what size she is and if she likes ox tongue, because I thought I could, you know, put some in a plastic container for her so she could take it home. But if she was too small to carry it, then we have a problem… she would just have to eat it with me.

Ah well, if she doesn't like it, it means more for me! Or Crookshanks, I still hadn't figured it out.

Well, anyways, the massive rock on my roof actually had a _reason_ to be there, but I couldn't remember what it was. All I knew was that the removal of said rock made Crookshanks mew repeatedly. I suspected the cat was laughing at me and calling me stupid – I am NOT stupid! I am the smartest witch that I know!

While I was arguing with Crookshanks about pushing the rock off my roof, Harry came by. He's cute.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" He asked. His voice was impossibly squeaky. I don't know why, but all of the elves sound like children. I don't, but they do. I sound like a normal teenage girl, thank you very much.

"I'm going to push this rock from my roof, but Crookshanks think I'm insane." I answered. Crookshanks started to do his strange little laugh again.

"Is he now? Dearest, why do you want to push that rock off your roof?" He asked, his nose crinkling in interest. He has a cute nose.

"I'm going to paint my roof, and I need the rock gone." I said, pushing hard against the rock, but it didn't even budge.

Bloody, racist rock! Move, mortal, or else!

"Hermione… you are a witch, remember?" The teenager with the way too squeaky voice said. I stopped pushing the rock and blinked. He was right! I laughed nervously and pulled out my wand, waving it and the rock fell to the ground with a loud _thud_, only just missing his cute shoes.

I continued to paint the roof (this time I used my wand, boy did I feel like an idiot).

Okay, so, now I was in my kitchen, and I was making dinner, and Crookshanks was mewing, and the wind was blowing awfully fiercely. I closed the windows quickly in fear of my superhero figurines toppling over. They were a gift from King Rosehalo after I saved the kingdom from the Blueberry's Yellow Witch.

There was a huge gust of wind and my newly painted flipped up and off my roof. So that was why the rock was there!

What the batshit? I mean catshit, sorry, bats are offending. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to put a rock on a roof and to, I don't know, staple it? Right, that was me, I was in a hurry. Damn it.

And then the bell rang. Great, I have visitors and not a roof! Fantastic! Did they not see the bloody wind stealing roof? _"Oh, a flying roof. Ah well, let's see who's home and torture them a while."_

I turned the stove down so as not to overcook or burn my tongue and tail, and stomped to the door. I hope someone was returning my roof, though that could be impossible. And, as if to add insult to injury, it started to rain. I was drenched by the time I got to the door. Well, not really, but it's a stylistic device, damn it.

I wrenched it open and nearly screamed at my late visitor.

"Good evening," Said one of the sweetest voices I had ever heard. My guest was a beautiful lady, probably my age, with pale skin, huge and beautiful eyes with dirty blonde hair that reached mid-back.

"Uh, hello, how can I help you?" I asked, abandoning my idea of screaming at her. She looked so innocent that I couldn't scar her like that. Seamus the elf still wasn't talking to me.

"I apologise, young witch, but I got lost on my way to the castle." She explained, and I stood back, allowing her entry. Couldn't have the pretty woman getting all wet.

"I assume you need a place to sleep for the night?" I asked, and she nodded, raindrops dripping from her eyelashes. That was cute – not my type of thing, though.

"My name is Luna… and you don't have a roof. Did the nargles steal your roof?" She asked, and I realised she had a dreamy voice, as if she was airy and ditzy. And what the hell were nargles? If they stole my newly painted roof, I would find them and kill them with my own two hands. And maybe Crookshanks would help.

"No, the wind blew it off just before you arrived," I said, and then my eyes widened, "My ox tongue!" I whirled to my oven and switched it off before the rain dripping on my oven could shock me.

"You're making ox tongue? That's my favourite!" She exclaimed, and I laughed. I liked her already.

"Mine too, but my roof decided to fly off. So I can't finish it tonight. But if you wanted to stay for the night, that would be fine, and we could make it for breakfast?" I offered. You see, she wasn't a Blueberry, because Blueberries have a certain accident, and she was too nice to be a Blueberry. I just know what Blueberries sound like, and my house would've kicked her out if she was one anyways.

"Really?" She asked, her dazy voice going up an octave. That wasn't so cute anymore.

"Sure, you can take my bed and Crookshanks and I'll sleep under the table in a sleeping bag, and you can take my room," I smiled, "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not." She answered, smiling self-consciously. I laughed and made her a bowl of oatmeal.

"Sorry it isn't anything else, but I can't risk it. If you stay for the night, we can enjoy ox tongue in the morning." I smiled at her – I liked Luna. I pulled the sleeping bag from my closet and made sure she was comfy. I then made myself comfortable under the kitchen table.

The rain had mercifully stopped by this time, and I stared out at the stars. This no roof thing wouldn't be so bad if it would come raining on my parade.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Now, as to some context, the SA story is about a sweet little witch living with elves and makes stupid mistakes.**

**And here's the rest of it.  
**

**Chapter 3: Dearest's New Roof, Part 2**

When morning came, I stretched myself out like a lazy cat, and my lazy cat stretched out like a lazy human.

I go out from under the table, after nearly breaking the table with my large limbs. I put the oven on again to make my ox tongue (and tail) for Luna and myself to enjoy. I quickly mopped and vanished the last bit of water before going to wake my guest.

My bedroom door was open. I leaned my head in and was about to knock when I saw that I had a very rude guest.

Luna the pretty girl was gone. She had left before I could even wake up! Bloody woman! She didn't even thank me! That is the LAST (and first) time I help someone! Bloody ungrateful swine of magical creatures! I will find her and make her thank me!

Holy mother of Rosehalo's beard, look at the time! I was supposed to go the castle this morning to greet our very esteemed visitor, the Fairy Queen. I just hoped I didn't sit on her.

It was with a heavy heart (and a series of tired sighs) that I turned down my ox tongue (again) and went to get dressed. I flicked my wand and my bed itself – usually I did it, but I was too sad to do all the trouble.

I shook my wild tresses and attempted to pull a brush through them, but no luck, the brush broke three times until I gave up and used magic to tame the beast. I should invent a magical hairbrush that never breaks. Luckily the tiny teeth didn't remain in my hair.

I decided to leave the place unlocked. I didn't have a bloody roof, so if someone wanted to break into my house and steal my Barbie collection, it wouldn't be too hard.

I know what you're thinking: why not just use magic to find and reinstall your roof or to magic up a new one? Well, that's because magic isn't the answer to everything! Of course, my king Rosebundalow disagrees, but he calls me everytime there's a spider on his throne. He's a 200 year old man and cant kill his own spiders. Bloody hell, why the hell was he king again?

The castle doors were opened for me by ridiculously dressed elves. They wore bowler hats and mini-skirts, talk about embarrassing. Ah well, might as well laugh about. So I did just that. I pointed too, because, come on, they were wearing slippers – purple, fluffy slippers. Rosecrow probably designed it himself – I wouldn't be surprised.

I was shown to the thrown room, where Roseglue was conversing with someone, someone with long blonde hair…

"YOU!" I screamed (in a very unlady-like fashion), "You bloody well left my house! You didn't even make the bed, you little chipmunk! I will slice you up with a banana peel and serve you to the donkeys, you ungrateful, troublesome little beetle!"

The entire thrown room had gone silent. Sure, they were bustling about a minute ago, but now they were shutting up. Ugh, my life sucks. I didn't ask for all this attention, did I? I just wanted to ask someone to thank me for my hospitality, was that too much to ask?

"Dearest," A voice said next to me, it was Harry and his cute crinkled up nose, "That's the Fairy Queen."

"She can be the queen of the Pancake Kingdom – I don't care! She didn't make the bed, Harry! The bed!"

Harry took a step backwards and glared at the Fairy Queen, "You didn't make the bed? How dare you insult us like that? Be gone with you, sprite from Cerebro!"

I blinked at Harry, "You just called her a sprite from the rain." I pointed out.

"Really? Then what is tha place where it's super warm and all the bad people go?" He asked, crinkling his cute nose (my heart fluttered) again.

"Uh, Harry, that would be hell." I said softly. Harry grinned awkwardly, then glared again and opened his mouth to insult the Fairy Queen again.

"Enough," Rosehunger said calmly, spreading his wrinkly hands wide, "Luna here has just come to tell me of your deed, Dearest Little Witch."

"My name is Hermione," I spat at him, crossing my arms, "And she left before eating the ox tongue!" I sounded like a whiny baby, but I got away with it as the only witch in Daisyland.

"Well, Dearest Hermione, I apologise profusely," Luna the Bee Queen said, "I shall be making your bed for the next fortnight."

"It's not the same," I said wistfully, settling down on the floor, "And Rosehell insnt making it any better."

"Rose_halo_, Dearest." Harry whispered to me, but somehow everyone heard.

"Right."

"Well, Dearest Hermione, I would like to extend an olive branch," Luna said, but I cut across her before she could continue.

"I hate olives."

"Strawberries?"

"None of those in our parts."

"Apples?"

"No, apples hurt my teeth."

"Oranges?"

"Oranges and lemons, say the bells of…" I started the nursery rhyme, but I couldn't remember how it ended, so I just hummed.

"Hermione, I'm sorry!" Luna said, actually begging. Yes, the Bee Queen was begging me – I am that awesome.

"Fine," I huffed, "but you owe me an ox tongue meal." I said firmly. She laughed and nodded.

Yay – more ox tongue for me!

"But I actually have another gift for you, Dearest Hermione," The Bee Queen said to me, "You'll see it when you go home."

I was curious and left immediately, dragging Harry and his cute nose with me. Crookshanks had decided to stay home, mostly because cats weren't allowed in the throne room.

I entered my house and looked up immediately. My yellow roof was still missing but a thin sheet of glass (I hope it was strong glass, and I didn't really know if it was glass, but it was se-through) had been placed upon my kitchen.

I have a starry kitchen. I have a starry kitchen! Thank you, Bee Queen!

. . .

**A/N: I love this.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, this doesn't seem to be having many readers… meh, I don't care. This is for my friends.**

**Chapter 4: Gloria**

The day I found out about Gloria was quite by accident. I'd completely forgotten about her, to be honest, and it was simply my colourful usage of names to call people that lead to her memory being rediscovered.

You see, witches are uncommonly rare, especially in Daisyland and over at the Blueberry ranch, seeing as we have a grand total of two. Me and old Yellow Witch (who is astoundingly ugly, if I must say so myself). My family has always been the witches of Daisyland, and my grandmother-with-a-long-name had been before me.

Of course, each witch must have a familiar. I have Crookshanks, but he's not a familiar and Severus gave him to me as a gift – Crookshanks is my _friend_, not my familiar.

You see, I had forgotten that. So, one day…

Harry with the cute nose, Ron with the cute toes (yes, they looked like baby peas, they were honestly that adorable) and I were going for a walk. Not a far walk, just to town and back. Only we got lost and I forgot my wand.

So we ended up stranded in Blueberry territory, captured by the most annoying, despicable, dreadful, wicked and stupid Blueberry. His name was Draco, and we had met a few times before. He tried to steal the Golden Daisy and I turned him into a goose; he still has the feather tail to prove it. I don't think he likes me.

But anyways, there we were, thrown into a jail cell made from bubblegum. Yes, I expected blueberries too, but apparently people ate those, and chewed bubblegum wasn't exactly a dish many enjoyed.

Ron enjoyed it though, he was already on his third handful.

"Not so funny now, are you, witch?" Draco-baby asked. I couldn't insult him for being ugly, because he wasn't. He wasn't wearing a silly hat, so I could see his long, golden locks leak onto the floor and his smouldering eyes stared back at me, but with annoyance and a tiny smidge of hatred.

"Oh, I'm still as witty as water," I said, "I will use words to get my comrades and myself out of this prison."

"Are you sure your ginger-haired comrade wouldn't use his mouth?" He spat back, and I looked at Ron with the cute toes. It was possible. I looked at Harry – he was brooding. Bloody hell, am I the only intelligent one here?

"You are a nampy pampy, yellow-eared, curly-toed frog that I wish would get eaten by a rooster!" I yelled at him.

"Yeah? Well, you're pamy namp, green-legged, bendy witch that I wish could get eaten by a toad!" He yelled back.

"Frog hopper!"

"Pool gutter!"

"Toe seller!"

"Finger tamer!"

"Cat licker!" I yelled back, and everyone gasped. "What?" I noticed everyone was staring at me. Ron's sixth hand of chewed bubblegum had ended up on the cell floor and his mouth was wide open as the elf stared at me. Harry's nose was turned into a sneer (but it was still cute) and Draco was, for once in his life, speechless.

"Dearest, no, you went too far," Harry said, "You cannot just call some _that._"

I didn't see the problem, though, I just called him a man that licks cats.

OH! _That's _why…

I blushed profusely, as did Draco, for a matter of fact.

"You're never getting out of here now." He said, his voice now away from the teasing attitude he had had beforehand.

"Gloria!" I yelled, so as not to blaspheme.

And, just like that, Gloria appeared. Gloria slammed a foot on the floor, and then she charged, pecking at Draco's ankles. He ran away as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him, conveniently leaving the keys behind.

Gloria the chicken (my familiar) came to the cell and kicked the key to us.

"Come on, then, hurry up!" She yelled at us, and, in sync, our mouths dropped open. A talking chicken?

"Who the hell are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm Gloria," The hen answered, "She summoned me." I think she was trying to point at me, but the only other 'she' here was me, unless she summoned herself.

"Oh, now I remember!" I screamed (because talking like a normal person was beneath me), "Ron, Harry – the day I had to choose a familiar, all of the horses, dragons, phoenixes, magical cats, sphinxes, satyrs, nymphs, minotaurs, lions, tigers, donkeys and frogs were taken. So I chose Gloria." I explained, flicking a finger each time I named a possible familiar I could've had.

"It is nice to know I was your first choice, now get out," The chicken squawked at us, flapping her non-flying wings, "HURRY!"

So we hurried, and ran all the way back to Daisyland. Which was about two metres before we slowed into a jog and then stopped running. We were at war with our neighbouring country: they wanted our Golden Daisy, and we couldn't let them have it.

I said her name again and she disappeared, asking me not to call her again if I could avoid it. She's such a mean chicken, isn't she?

. . .

**A/N: Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Hermione's Birthday**

Okay, so, I have a problem: I have no idea when my birthday is. I forgot. And King Rosehalo cannot help me either, because Daisyland apparently doesn't have a registry of newborns… how does this empire run with such an incompetent leader?

Anyways, I was complaining to Harry that I didn't know when my birthday was and never having a birthday party and not getting presents and cake and getting to shove Crookshanks and Gloria the angry chicken into cakes and forcing them to jump out at me, and he was getting annoyed (his cute nose was crinkling more and more).

"Dearest, just throw a birthday party and tell people it's your birthday?" He asked. Ron was there too, but his head was on my lap and he was snoozing softly. He had shoes on, so I couldn't admire his pea-like toes. Damn.

A bulb flashed above my head (figuratively, of course) and I had the best idea of any ideas ever thought of.

"Harry, why don't I throw myself a party and just say it is my birthday?" I asked, and he blinked at me.

"Dearest, that was literally just what I said." He said in monotone, but I wasn't listening. I took out my trusty notepad that I always carried around and started to write what we'd need. _Cake, drinks, balloons, cake, a stereo, a piñata, cake, a dance floor, a foot race, invitations, cake… oh, and cake._

I nodded, satisfied at my list, and transferred Ron to Harry.

"I'm going shopping, aglets. My party's on Saturday, be there or I will haunt and slice up with my razor blades your most precious possessions!

Ron sat up and screamed, "Jimmy, noooooo!"

"Uh, Ron? Who the hell is Jimmy?" Harry asked, his dark eyebrow unbelievably high into his silly red cap.

"My pillow," Ron answered, "She wants to slice up my pillow!" With that he sprang to his feet and started to run away, "Jimmy, I'm coming!"

Harry and I watched the pillow-loving gecko run as fast as his short and speckled legs could carry him to save his beloved Jimmy.

"I'll be there." Harry said, before running to assumedly hide his most precious possession.

. . .

_Saturday_

I looked at my handy work. My garden had a slip 'n slide, a jumping castle, a trampoline, a massive food and drink stand, a table labelled 'presents only', a piñata version of Gloria the chicken, balloons hung everywhere and the whole left side of my garden was dedicated to cake.

Crookshanks had argued not to jump out of a cake and was instead dressed as Gloria, whilst Gloria was scaring people by being a hissing chicken.

GLORIA HAS TEETH! She actually _bit me! _She's like a vampiric chicken, that one. Goodness me.

Anyways, Harry and Ron had just arrived, and I pounced on them.

"Where are my presents?" I yelled at them, climbing over and under them as I tried to sniff out the bright paper packages (probably tied up with Ron's gum).

"Hello to you too, Dearest." Harry said sarcastically (honestly, it didn't fit him) and handed over a present. I tore the paper off with my teeth whilst Crookshanks clawed at it. Soon it was open and Harry had thought it appropriate to give me a tea set. It was such a thoughtful gift. Ron had given me a massive pack of non-chewed gum – I nearly burst out in tears.

All in all, it was a fantastic party, even if someone drank all of _my_ red drinks – I will eventually find out who it was and skip my way over there with a sharp dagger and slice his pillows.

Luna gave me this massive sunflower that clucked. Gloria the chicken attacked it, thinking it was a goblin pretending to be a clucking sunflower. King Rosetrout came by too, and he offered me a large back of cockroach clusters – I dumped them into Ron's mouth as fast as I could.

At the end, when all the food was up, the cakes had been destroyed, the jumping castle had broken (because someone (Gloria) had left their shoes on. Why on earth was a chicken wearing heels?), the trampoline had gone missing and the slip 'n slide was strangely malformed, we all sat under trees.

"This was fantastic. I have another birthday coming up on Saturday, you all better be here." I said without thinking.

"It… it's not really your birthday?" Someone asked, I don't know who, "I'm taking my present back!"

"You can't," Ron said before I could, "Witches choose their own birthday."

"So, next Saturday – be here."


End file.
